The Library
by Horcrux7
Summary: Blaise lived for what he had with Ginny, but it only happened in the library... One-shot.


**The Library**

His hand moved up her thigh, so slowly that she barely noticed. The way she was sitting on the wooden chair allowed him open access to all of the mysteries that existed under her skirt. They seemed to play this game almost every time they were in the library. He would put his hand on her knee and she would give him this sexy, sideways glance that told him it was okay—it drove him crazy.

Every time he did it he never knew how far she would let him go before she smacked his hand away or mouthed "no". He always obeyed, too, because he knew that if he pressured her then it would never happen again. And he lived for days like this.

They weren't dating, they weren't even friends—Merlin, they were supposed to hate each other! He wasn't even sure why he had done it in the first place or why she had allowed him to do it. But he didn't ask questions. The thing that really got him was that she never acted like it happened when they were outside of the library. In fact, she never acted like it was happening_ in_ the library when his hand was traipsing up her thigh.

His fingertips brushed the baby-soft skin of her hip joint. He could see her sparkling eyes look over at him, but she didn't turn or say anything. In fact, she poked her pinky finger between her teeth and bit down…hard.

Suddenly he was nervous to go beyond the proverbial boundary of her cotton knickers. He'd never gotten this far and he hadn't thought about what he would do if he did. It was absurd that he was nervous. After all, he had touched girls—hell, he wasn't even a virgin—but all of the other girls had been easy, they had pursued him. She was different and he didn't know what to do. Everything between them had been relatively innocent, yet the whole situation got his blood going south like nothing else.

When he didn't go on she looked over at him in confusion. Nearly of its own volition, his hand slowly returned to his side. Her head turned completely toward him—she never did that—and her mouth fell open slightly like she wanted to say something. She blinked her luminescent eyes several times, but she never said a word.

.-.-.-.-.

"Are we ever going to talk about it?"

She didn't have to turn around to know who was speaking to her. "Talk about what?"

"You know what," he whispered. "The library."

She inhaled sharply and glared over at him; partly to keep up appearances and partly because she was actually angry. "I thought you understood."

Before he could say a word, she walked away.

.-.-.-.-.

He sat next to her in the library like he always did. No one ever noticed them because the table was in the very back, around a corner and hidden by the stacks of magical tomes. She was furiously scribbling away on a piece of parchment, looking back and forth between her writing and the massive book laid open on the table.

She did a double take when he sat down.

"I'm sorry—"

The sound of her chair scraping across the floor stopped him. She stuffed her parchment in the book, slammed it shut, and walked away.

.-.-.-.-.

A hand came out of nowhere and grabbed her wrist. "What the—"

Another hand clapped over her mouth. "Shh," a voice breathed next to her ear.

She screamed into the hand, kicked her legs and squirmed with everything she had in her. She didn't know who had her, but they were strong and she would bet money that they didn't have good intentions.

"Ginny, stop!"

Not only did her body still, but her heart nearly stopped with it. She knew that voice, even if it had never spoken her given name. His arm relaxed but remained at her waist as she turned to face him with wide eyes. "Blaise?"

"I didn't mean to scare you," he whispered honestly. "I just—"

"Merlin, what is wrong with you?" she asked, cutting him off harshly.

Without acknowledging her rhetorical question, he let go of her waist only to take hold of her wrist and pull her into the dark library. "I need to talk to you."

"After curfew? In the library?"

His mouth opened before he spoke. "You won't acknowledge me anywhere else."

She scoffed, her auburn brows furrowed, and she freed her wrist from his grasp. "Have you forgotten who we are? You're a Slytherin! By definition, we are enemies. We don't talk, we don't acknowledge each other."

He stepped closer to her. His dark eyes were on fire. "Then why do you let me…"

She crossed her arms, shying away from his intense gaze. He didn't have to go on; she knew what he was talking about. "I don't know. Why did you do it in the first place?"

He hooked a finger under her chin and stepped even closer. "Because you looked so beautiful and I wanted to."

Her breath caught in her throat. At least he had a reason. She still wasn't quite sure why she let him. He was good-looking—very good-looking, but she knew that wasn't exactly enough to let her allow a Slytherin to touch her in such a way. And now he was too close for her to be able to think clearly anyway.

"Why do you let me?" he asked in a barely audible, husky whisper.

At that moment, everything about him oozed sensuality: the look in his dark, curiously slanted eyes, his soft, dark skin, and even his comportment as he held her chin and slid his other hand over her hip. Many times in the past she had called him a poser and a poser, by definition, was a person pretending to be someone they weren't. He was pretending like he was a horrid person because he was a Slytherin and they were supposed to be.

The truth was she wanted to know why he was pretending and what kind of person he was hiding. "I want to know who you are," she finally whispered.

Confusion flickered in his eyes. "I'm a pureblooded Slytherin," he said simply.

She scoffed and took a subconscious step away from him. "You degrade yourself to those two things? Half of your entire being is your blood?"

The whole mood of the room changed instantly. "You're a pureblood, too," he reminded her. "Aren't you proud of your purely magical heritage?"

She crossed her arms defensively. "Yes, but I don't obsess over it, or refuse to talk to those who aren't."

His own brow furrowed in frustration. This wasn't exactly going as he had planned. "This isn't what I—"

"Would you have done it if I weren't a pureblood?" she challenged.

His mouth fell open. "I can very honestly say that your blood is the last thing on my mind when we're in here."

Her arms fell to her sides, her body noticeable relaxed and her gaze softened. "Oh."

Feeling the change in her, he closed the space between them again. "I'm not as bad as you think."

His heart swelled when a smile parted her lips. "That's what I want to know."

He took hold of her waist and pulled her flush against him. "But I'm tired of this game we play."

"It's not a game," she quickly, but she didn't push away from him. "I just—I guess I was a little ashamed of what I let you do and I didn't want to be reminded of it outside of here."

"But you don't want me to stop?"

Her head slowly shook back and forth. "No," she breathed.

Before she could utter another word, his lips were on hers, moving slowly and gently at first, then quickly and passionately as she allowed him to deepen the kiss. Her hands moved over his toned shoulders to the back of his neck, her fingertips brushing feather light caresses on his smooth skin. His hands were immediately under her jumper, feeling the warm, soft skin of her sides.

He wanted her too much. They were in the library after all, but he knew there were boundaries and he was about to cross them. He gently pulled her away from him ever so slightly. "You want to know who I am?" he whispered.

"Yes," she breathed through swollen lips. "I want to know everything."

For the first time since he had set foot in Hogwarts, he decided he was going to be absolutely honest. "I am Blaise Zabini and at this moment I am in great danger of falling in love with you."

**A/N: This was my first Ginny/Blaise. I've found that I quite like the pairing. Tell me what YOU think! I love to hear from you!**


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